The Great Humphrey
by DarkPrinceDreemurr
Summary: My name is Hutch Carraway. In 1922 I came to New York to work on the stock market, that was it. Little did I know, that summer would be one I would never forget. I saw things I never thought I'd see in my life. Went places I never knew existed. But most importantly I met a man who I will never forget. That man, is Gatsby.
**AN- So here it is, the first chapter of a new story I'm doing. If you've read "The Great Gatsby" you'll probably be very familiar with this story. But let me go on the record by stating this is not just a reskin of that book. While it will follow similar story arcs and have the same characters, I will be adding my own flair to it to keep it from being a complete copy. I mean who wants to read a word for word remake with different names? I just want to go for the record by saying I do not own Alpha and Omega nor am I anywhere close to owning "The Great Gatsby". Chapters for this story will be a lot shorter than those in the book, otherwise we would only have 9 chapters and they would take ages to type. It may take me a bit to update this story as I am working on another fic called "Hutch" but I will update this one, assuming it is well received. Enjoy!**

29 long years I've spent on this planet. I had grown up on a farm in Minnesota, studied at Yale, and even fought in the Great War. I thought I had seen it all. But nothing could have prepared me for this past summer. I almost seemed like something that belonged in a great book. There was action, drama, romance, and well, I suppose I can just tell you about it.

For starters, my name Is Hutch Carraway. As I previously mentioned, I'm a 29 year old farmer from Minnesota who came here to make it big on the stock market. Or at least I hoped to. I was a very tolerant and open minded person, a bit quiet at times but I liked to listen to others. This was something that often got me into some, interesting predicaments. Turns out if you listen long enough people will tell you some pretty personal secrets. But enough of that.

It was the summer of 1922, a time that I'll most certainly never forget. I had decided that living in Minnesota wasn't going to get me anywhere in life, so I cut my losses. I packed my things and moved out to New York, thought I would try to make it in the bond business. A lot of people seemed to be flipping over huge profits in short times, some even made a living of it. It was a huge risk, but one I was willing to take.

My father had managed to get me a train ticket for a real bargain, or at least he said it was a bargain. I had a cousin who had ran off to New York with some rich tycoon a while back, so I believe my aunt may have chipped in with him in the hopes I would keep an eye out for her. I hadn't seen her in years, a pretty young blonde named Kate Buchanan now, who had been born in Louisville, Kentucky and was always looking for a bigger and better life full of money and material possessions.

I always loved playing as kids when they would come and visit us on the farm. We'd run around the fields, feed the animals, and even ride horses for hours on end. As an only child things tended to get boring out in the countryside, so having her around broke up the tedium of life. But as we got older, she visited less and less until eventually we never saw her again. All we got was a letter from my aunt about the wedding, we weren't even invited. Needless to say, I could have cared less about finding her.

The trip was two days long, a straight shot from Minnesota to Manhattan, with a short stop to refuel along the way. The first day of travel, was nice to say the least. The train had wonderful sleeping cars for tired and weary passengers to doze off in during the night. My ticket included a spacious private room so I would have plenty of room to myself. Which was good, I liked having my own space. The passenger and dining cars were also very well decorated and comfortable. I met a lot of colorful characters in the time I spent exploring my temporary home.

Despite the good night's rest I got, the next day felt a little tedious. I never was much of a traveler; I learned that when I was shipped off for the war. I had actually been shipped from New York, making this my second trip to the big city. Granted it was a very fast departure, so I didn't get to spend much time enjoying the sights or the people. But I had brought some books with me, which occupied most of my dad. I also decided to turn in early so I would be well rested to explore New York.

We pulled into Grand Central around noon. Everyone immediately began flooding into the station as if it was nothing. But I took my time with the experience. My suitcases in hand I stumbled around the station aimlessly, merely wanting to take in the sights of the beautiful architecture. We hadn't pulled into this wonderful place last time I had been here. The place itself would have been an entire experience in itself. It was then that I realized that I would love it here.

I stepped out of the terminal and onto the sidewalk where I really got to take in the city for what it was. Out in Minnesota houses were incredibly few and far between. Your closest neighbor might have been a few miles away. But here, the buildings were practically side by side, and they were absolutely massive. Monoliths of concrete and steel that rose into the sky like trees. And there were so many people, I could see hundreds all the way around me. It almost took a while to notice the blonde man standing in front of me.

"You Hutch Carraway," the portly man asked with happy smile. He was dressed rather nicely in a black suit and tie. A gold chain hinted at a small pocket watch tucked away from view. He smelled of expensive cologne as I shook his hand.

"That's me. Pleased to meet you Mr.?" I raised a brow as he took my briefcase and sat it in the trunk of the car he was standing in front of.

"Oh Mooch Harrington, but you can just call me Mooch. Please, have a seat," he said opening the back door for me. I stepped inside and relaxed into the soft white seat of the black automobile.

"Gee, uh thanks Mooch, but might I ask what all this is about," I asked rubbing my head. I hadn't even realized that I had climbed into a vehicle with a complete stranger.

"OH! Suppose I should explain that. You're living on est egg yes," he asked as he crawled into the driver seat and pulled out into the bustling line of traffic. I had to quickly check my own address, retrieving the small envelope from my pocket.

"Yepp, small little house near a…mansion," I raised a brow to him.

"That's the one. Yes sir, you are living next to one of Manhattans richest and most mysterious men, Gatsby," he spoke almost as if telling a mysterious legend that had been passed through the ages.

"Gatsby," I asked, the name having peaked my curiosity.

"Yes sir. He's the one who called the cab company and had me come out here to pick you up. He musta known you were moving into that little place beside his mansion. Boy do you have it good. Every Saturday there's always a huge party at his place," Mooch sighed as if recalling memories, but I merely rolled my eyes. That's just what I needed, a rich tycoon filling his house with a bunch of people and keeping me up all night. I almost began to assume the cab was sent as either his way of apologizing for the noise, or to try and make himself seem like a decent guy. I consider myself a pretty tolerant guy, but it seemed like all these rich tycoons were the same, stuck up and greedy.

"So, what's this Gatsby like," I decided it was best to try and learn as much about him as I could before I started to develop an opinion of him.

"Well, that's the mysterious part. No one seems to have ever met him. But he has to live at the mansion. There's always a ton of people tending to the grounds and keeping the place spick and span. And there's always plenty of food and booze at these parties, so someone has to be buying it all," he answered as we pulled off onto a much smaller road and began to leave the city behind. We were now heading towards a small moon shaped pair of peninsulas, Long Island.

The place wasn't much to look at. It almost seemed out of place in the concrete jungle, with plenty of green grass and trees, but also a fair share of magnificent houses. Mostly in the east though. The two areas were known as West and East Egg and hosted a plethora of wealthy aristocrats and rich tycoons. As I understood it everyone in the east were what everyone called 'old money'. Basically they inherited all of their money from their families. West egg is where the 'new money' lived, those who had come into their fortunes more recently through other means.

I was a little disappointed that I would be living so far away from the city, but a house was a house. There was a small train that led from Long Island into the city, I guessed that would be my means back into the metropolis until I could afford a car of my own. I would just have to make sure every time I went back I had everything I needed.

Before we even got close to my house I could see the mansion of my wealthy neighbor. I say mansion, but it was more like a castle. I large wall ran around the area, probably marking off his massive plot of land. The walls stretched up high, I would have guessed three or four stories at least. The shimmering white paint glistened nicely in the sunlight, almost as if freshly painted. Stretching out into the bay was a pier, but I didn't see any boat docked. Maybe he had gone for a small cruise?

We pulled up to my small shack and I let out a small sigh. The reality was finally beginning to set it. I was hundreds of miles from the only home I'd ever known, without my family, and ready to make something of myself. I had an unusual sensation in my stomach and to this day I'm still not sure if it was an eager desire to get inside my new abode, or a sense of dread screaming at me to stay in the cab and catch a train back home.

"I'll get your luggage," Mooch offered politely as he opened my door and rushed to the rear of the vehicle. I stepped out and took a deep breath of my new surroundings. It was, surprisingly pleasant. Despite the close proximity to the large city, all I could smell was the sweet scent of nature. Flowers and trees, with just a subtle hint of saltiness from the sea nearby. Dare I say it but the aroma was damn near inviting.

"Thanks," I gave Mooch a thankful handshake in appreciation for having drove me all the way out here. I reached into my pocket to pay the fare and he shook his head.

"Oh, no fare necessary. Already received payment," he smiled patting abnormally thick coat pocket. Gatsby must have sent the payment in advance. Either way, I felt bad leaving him with nothing. So I gave him a generous twenty-five cent tip which he seemed very thankful for. So much so that he waved as he drove off, and I couldn't help but wave back. He seemed like a good man. I decided I would try to see him again.

As I stepped to the door I couldn't help but notice the daisies which had been planted at the front of the wooden home. The place itself wasn't much to look at from the outside. Just a small little home with white outer walls and a red shingled roof with a small chimney poking from the top. There was a window to the left of the door but the curtain was closed, restricting me of an inside view. I stepped up to the door and retrieved the key from my envelope. The outside might have been a little bland, but the inside sure made up for that.

I was in awe at how beautiful it was in the place. The door led into the living room. The woods were expertly stained very dark, but shined from the excellent buffing they had received. There was a large whit rug in the middle of the room which added a huge splash of color. The mantle around the fireplace was the same shade as the floor and walls. The fireplace itself was free of ash and soot which came as a surprise. There was a very large sofa and a pair of really nice chairs. What really caught my eye was the bookshelf already stocked with dozens of different works. Everything Mary Shelly to Homer lined the shelves to the brim.

I decided the rest of the house was worth investigating as well. There was a luxurious bathroom with a brand new toilet, bathtub, and sink with a marvelous tiled floor. The bedroom featured a king sized bed which had already been made with silk sheets, as well as a few dressers and a closet, all of which were full of clothes in my size. This is where I left my suitcase before going into the kitchen which was attached to a dining room. Much to my surprise there was a brand new refrigerator which, along with the cabinets, were stocked with all sorts of food items which were all fresh.

All of this began to come across as a bit odd to me. How had all of this stuff gotten here? Most, if not all of it was obviously new, or at least very recently installed. But I hadn't paid anyone for any of these things. The answer came in the form of a note which I noticed lying on the dining table. It was a very fancy card. Very thick paper lined with golden embroidery and hand written.

" _Dear Mr. Carraway,_

 _I do hope you enjoy the selection of literature I had picked out for you, I heard you were a very intelligent man so I had a hunch you would enjoy a few good reads. You needn't worry about any of the amenities in the house, I've already taken care of the costs. The food was delivered just this morning so it is all fresh. If you have a hard time fitting into any of the clothing please let me know, I know a wonderful tailor who can help you out and I'll cover all the costs. I do hope you'll stop by my place sometime for a drink. If you ever need anything, I'm just next door._

 _-Gatsby_

There was that name again; Gatsby. Had he really gone through the trouble of buying all of these things for me? The cab I could understand, but this was too much. Sure he lived in a mansion, but all of this must have cost him hundreds of dollars for someone he had never even seen before. Needless to say, my opinion of him was certainly mixed at this point. I found it strange that he would go through all of this trouble for a complete stranger. At the same time, I was surprised by is overwhelming generosity.

I decided that I would have to go visit this Gatsby, find out who he really was. For now though I would enjoy my first day in New York. I would start by visiting a few of my contacts in East Egg. Ever since I stepped out that door, everything became a blur.


End file.
